Talking It Out
by racefh853629
Summary: Post-episode for Art Imitates Life, inspired by the scene outside the psychiatrist's office. Hodges and Greg have a discussion over drinks.


A/N: I don't own CSI, CBS, or any other known entity. Post ep for Art Imitates Life, because part of the episode is what caused this idea to popped into my head. I hope you guys enjoy, and please review. :)

* * *

Talking it Out

He wasn't sure what he was doing, but he didn't care. He'd been feeling that a lot lately. Confusion on why he was doing what he was doing, but not caring about the reasoning. He knew deep down why. He just didn't want to admit it.

He missed Warrick.

He hadn't the guts to tell his younger colleague that he knew he'd been in the counselor's office. For one, the fact that he knew felt like an invasion on the man's privacy. For another, that was admitting that he went up there to talk to the psychiatrist.

So he stayed in the break room, sitting down on the couch.

The colleague in question entered the break room, sighing and flopping into another chair. Hodges looked over to him, finding the young man wiped. "What happened?" he asked softly. Greg turned his head to look at the trace tech.

"Found the kid," he replied quietly.

"Was he…"

"Riley brought him back." Greg's head sank to his chest, and Hodges nodded in the silence, not sure what to say.

* * *

"Wanna grab a beer?"

The question snapped Greg out of the memories of the warehouse that had intermingled with his life of the past few weeks. He picked his head up to look into the sincere face of David Hodges, and something inside him told him to say yes.

"Sure," he told the older man softly. Being done for the day, the two of them left the crime lab after a quick goodbye and half-hearted invite to Grissom. Half-hearted not just because they knew he'd say no, but also because they didn't exactly want him there.

This was between them.

They sank into a booth at a nearby bar and grill, both of them being rather hungry as well. The silence wasn't overly awkward, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. As two people that tended to bump heads in a competitive manner in the lab, them going out for a beer was a new thing. And they'd been working together for almost six years.

But Warrick had been there longer.

Greg couldn't believe how easily his thoughts kept reverting to his fallen friend. These past few weeks felt like torture every time he stepped into the lab. Every time he turned the corner, he expected to see Warrick standing there. He expected him to walk through the door and start talking about something or other.

"Me too," Hodges said softly. Greg furrowed his brow.

"Huh?" he asked.

"You said that you kept expecting to see Warrick everywhere."

"I said that out loud?" At Hodges' nod, Greg shrugged. "I didn't notice."

"Yeah, you've been lost the past few weeks." Hodges' voice was soft, genuinely concerned for the young CSI before him. "Frankly, I have been too. I keep expecting Warrick to come in for results."

"It sucks," Greg said, taking a drink of the beer he just realized was in front of him.

"It does," Hodges agreed, taking a drink of his own beer. "Do you remember the first time you met him?" Hodges watched a smile fill Greg's features at the memory.

"Oh, yeah. He was there before I was, and I remember sitting in my lab on my first day there when he came in with Captain Brass, who was leading the lab at the time. Brass made a comment about me being the newbie, and I launched into this long explanation of the results… I guess I did it to prove that I knew what I was talking about. Brass left about halfway through, not caring anymore and asking that Warrick just tell him later, and after Warrick said, 'I know what you're talking about, so what is it?' He was just, direct and to the point. And I gave him the results, and he said, 'thanks… you know, he's tough on everyone, so ignore him.' He introduced himself, then said he had to go. He invited me to go with him and Nick, though, to go grab a beer after work." Greg traced a finger along the label of the bottle before taking a drink.

"How long ago was that?" Hodges asked. Greg chuckled.

"About a decade ago. How about you? When was the first time you met Warrick?"

"It was shortly after I transferred here. He stopped in for results. He was nice."

"Until you opened your mouth," Greg quipped slightly, and Hodges' smiled.

"Yeah, pretty much," Hodges replied, taking the hit. Both men fell silent as their food was put in front of them along with another round of drinks. As the waitress walked away, Hodges sighed. "I miss him," he said quietly.

"Yeah, me too," Greg replied.

Hodges was observant enough to notice that Greg wasn't eating much. In fact, he'd noticed in the past few weeks that Greg wasn't really eating anything. He wasn't sure he should press the issue, or bring it up with someone else. They weren't that close, after all…

Greg noticed Hodges' intense concentration on the plate in front of him, and he furrowed his brow. Hodges seemed to have a lot on his mind, and Greg always was the kind of person to sacrifice for the betterment of others. It was something that had been grained into him as a child, and he'd continue now.

"What's on your mind?" Greg asked softly.

Hodges looked up to meet Greg's concerned look, and he sighed. _Now or never_, he thought to himself before saying, "I'm worried about you."

"Me?" Greg asked, confused.

"Yeah. You don't look so good. I know Warrick's death has been hard on you, I understand that. But… I was wondering if there was anything I could do, you know? Help you out?"

Those words seemed strange coming out of the mouth of David Hodges, arguably the most self-centered, arrogant ass of the lab. But the fact that he did say it made it feel real, like he actually meant what he was saying. Greg gave Hodges a weak attempt at a genuine smile.

"I wish you could," he said sadly. Hodges nodded in understanding, and Greg looked down. "But, thanks, though."

"Anytime," Hodges said sincerely. Having moved the elephant aside for the moment, the two settled into a lighter pattern of conversation, talking about other things going on in their lives and what they thought of the new CSI. Greg figured she might eventually settle in, but couldn't wait until that time. Hodges joked that she'd leave because she wouldn't be able to stand working with them. Greg laughed softly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to say it happened.

"Man, I still can't believe it," Greg said after the moment died down. "I can't believe he's dead. That I'll never see him walking around the lab again. Never hear him talking about the game or some stupid thing that happened the other night. You know?"

"Yeah," Hodges said quietly.

"I miss him. He was a good guy… he didn't deserve that. he shouldn't have gone out like that. He… he was a hero to so many people, and he was… killed like that… I just…" Greg fell silent, and Hodges took a drink of his beer.

"I know what you mean," he urged quietly.

"I couldn't bring myself to enter autopsy," Greg whispered, tears stinging his eyes and voice. Hodges watched quietly. "I didn't… I couldn't see him like that. I know everyone else did, but… I couldn't. I wasn't at the scene, thankfully. I… I don't think I could've handled that. He was like my brother, you know? We worked together for the better part of ten years."

"That's a long time."

"Yeah." Greg sighed deeply, dropping his head as the alcohol and mostly empty stomach allowed for the free falling of his emotions. Hodges frowned sympathetically as Greg lost his composure, burying his head in his arms on the table. He put his hand on the CSI's shoulder, and Greg didn't react. After a moment, he composed himself again, saying, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Hodges assured him quietly, patting Greg's shoulder gently.

"It's not fair."

"It never is." Hodges' voice had an air of recognition to it, and had the CSI been on his game, he would've noticed it. Instead, Greg wiped away his remaining tears before picking up his head.

"Thanks for dinner and the drinks, but I think I need to get home," Greg said quickly.

"Let me drive you," Hodges replied, pulling out his wallet.

"No, I'll be okay."

"Greg, you had a few beers and almost nothing to eat. I don't want you driving home like that."

Greg sighed after looking at Hodges' face. He knew he wasn't going to win that argument, so he nodded silently. Greg dropped enough money on the table to cover his part, and Hodges did the same. The two of them left, Greg stumbling slightly from the alcohol, his fatigue, and the draining of emotions he had done at the table. Hodges quietly guided him to the car, helping him into the car.

The ride to Greg's place was silent save for Greg giving directions, since Hodges was the only member of the team that had yet to go there. Hodges followed Greg up the stairs to make sure the man didn't fall backwards and crack his skull open. Greg seemed to have a good grasp on everything, though, so the assistance wasn't really needed. Greg opened his apartment door, being greeted by his kitten at the front door.

"How old?" Hodges asked softly.

"12 weeks," Greg replied, picking up the kitten. Hodges smiled, petting the cat. "I got her two weeks ago." Hodges nodded, understanding.

"Yeah."

"Thanks for everything, Hodges," Greg said after a moment. "Dinner, the talk, everything. I needed it."

"You're welcome," Hodges replied. "I'm gonna head home. Give me a call if there's anything else I can do, okay?"

"Alright. Take care."

"You too." Hodges left Greg's apartment, making his way to the car. He knew this entire thing was a process, and it would take them all quite some time to get through it. But he realized today they didn't have to do it alone, and he wasn't going to let them.

* * *

Greg closed the door behind Hodges, taking the kitten into deeper into the apartment. He kissed the animal on top of the head as he put it down on the bed and lay down next to it. He scratched it behind the ears as he let his tears fall down. Today had been the day for pulling things out, and he was thankful, honestly thankful, that Hodges had offered to help with that. The kitten moved to rub against his face, providing an attempt as a shedding, furry Kleenex for him as he sniffled. This was a time they needed to stick together, he realized, and he was glad to see that they would. All of them.

They'd get through this as a team.

The end.


End file.
